


Side Car

by siren_call



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Alcohol, Anathema (mentioned) - Freeform, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fallen Hero: Retribution Spoilers, Oral Sex, Table Sex, at least not with the knife, excessive use of metaphors, knife, minor bathroom meltdown, no one gets stabbed, this is not telepathys intended use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22463398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siren_call/pseuds/siren_call
Summary: Is this the chaser or the shot? You can't tell anymore
Relationships: Herald/Sidestep (Fallen Hero)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 57





	Side Car

**Author's Note:**

> And i'm back at it again, this time its straight up porn and heralds here and uhhhhhhh *they fuck* :^)

You've been here before in another life. With Anathema. The faded red carpet on the stairs looks the same as you remember under your boots as you descend. The bass rises up to welcome you down and you feel it in your rib cage now. You can sense when Daniel feels it too, he's excited. You reach the bottom of the stairs and glance over your shoulder as you lead him further in. You don't need to see if he's still following you, he is, you just want to look at him. His untied hair falls just shy of his shoulders and in the dim light of the underground bar it glows red around his gorgeous face. The corner of your mouth kicks up, unbidden. He liked that.

You slip easily through the crowd, whether it’s with a gentle physical touch or mental one is unimportant. The walk from Daniel’s apartment, _no we are not flying,_ took longer than you expected and you feel guilty for missing the start of the support act. Themmy would have scolded you. The band, who you haven't heard of before, is good.

You never thought you'd be back at The Side Car. You haven't thought about this hole in the ground for years. Your hair was blue back then, or was it green?

You find an open space at the quieter end of the bar and wait for a bartender. Danny comes to stand behind you, rests one of his hands on the countertop so you can lean back into him and you turn your head towards him to be heard over the music. Instead of reaching his ear you reach below it, his hair tickles your nose and your breath whispers over his neck. He shivers.

"What do you want?"

He leans down, mouth behind your ear, pressing your bodies together and says, "You."

Your mouth pulls into odd shapes in an effort not to smile and you turn away. Not quick enough. _He saw that_ , and you dig an elbow into his ribs, lightly. You set yourself up for that.

He laughs into your hair as he tries again. "Whatever you want, surprise me."

_Whatever you want?_

He doesn't pull back after he speaks, staying close, and you catch thoughts directed to you like the breath against your neck. From the fever warmth of his mind he- _He wants to push up against you, to feel your throat under his lips, his teeth if you'll let him._ You would.

The intake of breath through your nose is sharp as the heat goes straight through you. You want him, and he knows it, and he's just as proud of himself as he was earlier this week when he achieved a flying kick. No wait, he's prouder. Instead of moving back against him in the intimate darkness of the smoky bar like you want to, you lean forward. Away from him and his mind and grab the bartender's attention as they move past. You won't make it to the main act at this rate.

Half your drink is down your throat as soon as it arrives, with the practised ease of someone that has downed worse. Danny slowly drags his eyes from your throat to your face when he says "You didn't let me pay."

"Chill, Sir Barold, you can get the next round," and you throw back the rest and bare your throat again, gaze hooded, obstinately maintaining eye contact. Half invitation, half challenge. Heartbeat picking up, he accepts, and downs two thirds before he stops and pulls a face at the burn.

"What is this?"

The idea of him picking up your bad habits has you feeling some type of way and more sombre you answer "Not for everyone."

Danny frowns, reading the shift, he doesn't think that was about the drink. Fuck.

Before he can say anything about it you say mulishly, "If you can’t handle a surprise hand it over," and reach for the drink. He pulls it out of your reach and you raise an eyebrow at him. You wonder, briefly, if he would hover to keep it out of your grasp and you think he would try.

"Don’t tell me then, I like a mystery," he says as he finishes the rest. You skim his thoughts to find that he does actually like the drink, but mostly _he likes you_. And you don't get something out of your mouth before he eyes the backlit shelves and asks, "what now?"

"Sex on the Beach" you deliver with a straight face. Danny whirls his head back to you and he laughs. Without giving him time to recover you follow up, "a Quick Fuck" and he half chokes.

"A Blow Job" you smirk and he takes a deep breath in and you know he’s gone pink even if you can’t pick it out in the darkness. But you can pick up his thoughts, they're practically screaming at you in flashing neon lights, you on him and him on you, _or him under you_ … _Fuck_. The positions going through his head remind you that Danny has more experience even though you can get him worked up like this. He wants nothing more than to use all that experience on you.

"I'd break your neck." is all you can manage, you need another drink.

"But what a way to go though" and he grins and he looks like sin beneath the red lights of the underground bar. The idea of you above him thrills him and he wants you to know it.

Yet, his words leave a bad aftertaste and the warmth leaves you. There is no chaser for what happened at the Museum Gala. You pull back your mind from his, suddenly you feel dirty touching it, with what your hands have done, what they still might do.

"Are you going to order us drinks or just think about it?"

"I'm actually thinking about eating not drinking-"

"Danny."

He laughs, "Easy, Mona" and catches the attention of another bartender. You're unfamiliar with the drink, but it arrives a clear, deep green. Danny holds it up seriously and says, "It's the same colour as your eyes."

You snort and your cool mask cracks open and you end up laughing. He's such a little shit. You pick up the drink and take a curious sip, "my eyes are delicious."

"Yeah," Danny agrees, a dumb look on his gorgeous face.

"Ugh," you say smiling again. You thread your fingers with his and lead him down into the back of the crowd. You didn’t have to take his hand, you wanted to. And he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t let go for the rest of the set. Or the second.

“I’ll be back,” you say after the last support act exits and you can hear each other. Squeezing his hand before letting go, you slip easily out of the crowd.

Afterwards at the sink you catch yourself in the old bathroom mirror. Under the harsh fluorescent lighting your dark curly hair is wild. Black eyeliner making you pale, the fallout of your mascara, hollowing your face and you-

Grip the sink, _you-_

_You’re in a grimy gas station bathroom in desert nevada, with a death grip on the yellowed porcelain, crimson running from your nose mingling with the water from the tap and down the sink-_

A leather punk with a shaved head and a safety pin in their ear shuts off the tap and asks if you are ok. You stare at their mouth, trying to figure out if you heard their words out loud, everything is muted, ringing. You see yourself through their worry: pale, white-knucking the sink. They feel honestly concerned.

“Not really,” you answer honesty for honesty.

They want to grip your shoulder to ground you, because that’s what they need when they get lost, like they think you are now, but they don’t. They're not sure if they should. “Do you have someone? here?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to get them?”

“No, i- just need a moment” and it’s shaky, but the “Thanks,” is not.

They linger close anyway, as they re-apply their eyeliner, just in case. You are grateful, their mind as grounding as much as a hand and you come back to yourself. Still, when you leave the bathroom you feel like you have a ghost with you.

You won’t admit to walking a half pace faster, back to Danny, won’t admit to what you want to lose in the crowd. You find him easily, his hand takes yours immediately.

_Do you have someone?_

You think you do.

Danny talks about the bands so far tonight and you suggest new albums he should listen to, some were your favourites, and by the time who you came here for takes the stage the hunted eyes in the mirror feel distant. You can't feel the cold sink anymore only his hand.

The band members, when they walk on stage, are different, older, but so shockingly familiar as if you could turn your head and see Anathema instead. Hear her, yelling in your ear, about how she’s in love with the lead singer and how she can play the drums along to six of her favourite songs. You’re pushed up closer to the stage, Danny ends up standing half beside you half behind you. They begin playing one of their old songs, one from your other life, and it hits you in the chest full force. You remember this music, these words, and in this other life you yelled at the top of your lungs and held a freckled hand. You hold a different hand in this life. You imagine they would have liked each other.

You begin to let down your shields bit by bit and _feel_. The adrenaline of the singer as she howls on stage, singing her heart out, just as you remember. The bass and guitar players, lovers now, serenading each other. The energy of the crowd as they push and pull against the stage, their minds and voices all singing in unison, but at different notes. The woman who is hurting two feet on your left is screaming the words with an emotion that differs from the best friends holding hands at the front of the crowd. The nervous excitement of two people on a first date being pushed into each other's arms just as loud as the young teen at the back who feels both found and like they have found themselves. The leather punk with the safety pin and the honest concern is belting the lyrics to a complete stranger who is trying their best to sing back through the widest red lipstick smile.

And it's all energy, all loud feeling. Like a harmony and it's raw and alive and it floors you, and you want him to understand.

"Do you want to know what it feels like?" You yell to be heard. Touch your temple to ask for permission. He nods, eager, he trusts you.

 _He trusts you_.

You swallow hard. You hold his face with both your hands and bring your foreheads close. You close your eyes and reach out. The sun-like warmth isn’t hard to find. You say follow me, _mind your step, hah_ and open up the door for him. You don’t grab him to take him in, you won’t, you call out instead, allowing him to follow at his own pace. 

He dives in head first, without reserve, and to him the room feels like he's fallen through 10 floors. You’re worried he’ll get overwhelmed and he hears your concerns, but he’s _not afraid of falling_ he tells you. He seems to gather himself before giving himself over to the crowd, the sea of feeling. _Beautiful._ And you think he gets it.

"Is this what you feel all the time?"

"Not all the time."

"What do _you_ feel like?"

"Do you want to know?"

“More than anything,”

So you pull back to just him and you and you can’t hide, but you don’t want to, you want to _give_ not take. So you do. You give him the tangled spaghetti mess of unnamed feelings for this sunshine boy with the kind words and the safe hands and the soft-

You get a moments warning of pure unadulterated _love_ crashing back through the connection and-

Danny’s kissing you, harder than he ever has, and you quickly lose your concentration and the connection. The kiss breaks as you get pushed in the crowd but he puts his arms around you. His embrace makes you feel like you’ve been lying in the sun, and it's corny as all hell but you sail that thought to him anyway. He holds it close, slightly left of center. You feel something take hold in the same spot in your own chest.

_Do you have someone?_

Yeah, you do.

 _Fuck_. 

***

Later, when the band has exited after their encore, you burst through a door into a 'no access' stairwell.

Danny chases you up the stairs and you don't slow down because if he catches up you would start kissing and never reach the top. You burst through another door into an empty venue room, chairs upside down on tables and bar empty. When the door shuts behind you it muffles the noise from below except for the bass. You feel it through your whole body, like a heartbeat.

You push him up against a wall and swallow his noises whole. Your hands slide underneath his jacket so you can feel him through his t-shirt and he’s burning hot from being in the crowd, just like you and _fuck_ he's toned. You pull your hands back to grip the jacket collar and tug it down wanting it _gone_ . His arms get trapped for a moment before you properly try to help strip it off and _he likes that,_ and you're about to file that away for later when you catch-

 _Trust_.

He trusts you.

Your throat closes up. You kiss him harder and shove your hands up under his shirt and you drag your nails back down over his abs and his stomach tenses underneath your touch so you try to make it softer but you don't seem to manage it and you're _desperate_. You pull even harder at his shirt, pull it over his head to uncover-

 _Fuck._.

Danny in the fucking moonlight like some romance novel, like a Los Diablos Rangers charity calendar and you look because you can and because he lets you. You see yourself through his mind's eye and you look _hungry_.

So you take a bite. Starting at his bottom lip moving to under his jaw to his neck to his collarbone, and wait, you could be leaving hickeys, so you do exactly that. Sucking a mark at the meeting of his neck and shoulder, before backtracking to suck a better purple bruise onto his throat. Danny moans and he cannot keep still so you pin his body to the wall. Like a mounted butterfly. You give the spot you've been working on a soothing lick of your tongue before pulling back to admire your work. He won’t be able to hide _that_ under his ranger costume. Danny, impatient, grabs the back of your neck and claims your mouth again.

What are you doing marking the golden boy like this? and in the question is the answer. You want him debauched and you want to be the one to do it. You're full of some heady feeling. "My round," and against his lips you suggest, "blow job?"

Danny's head hits the back of the wall and his grip on you tightens. He makes a “ _Mmm_ ,” that you think was intended to be your name, his mind is singing for you. To _do it, do whatever you want, take me, take whatever you want._ But you want to _give_ , you _want_ -

You drop to your knees, he watches you with a dumbstruck brand of reverence. And you're full of guilt and you're full of desire, and full of that unnamed thing and you don't know which will win.

But you'll be damned if you don't at least _try_ to give Danny the best blowjob he's ever had.

You run your hands down from his waist over his hips to his jean covered thighs then back up, thumbs on the inseams. Over his belt to below his navel, the coarse amber hairs there. You can feel the muscles of his stomach jump under your fingertips. Just the sight of you kneeling, eyes looking up through your lashes, has him halfway there. “Danny,” you say into his hip as you suck a third bruise.

" _Mona_ …" he almost whimpers and your eyes almost close.

"I'll need the green light, to go any further."

"What?"

"Consent, I need you to say that you're okay with-"

"Yes! _yes_ I'm ok with- yes, please _god_ yes"

"Easy there Angel," you smirk. At the nickname his heart hits his throat and his head hits the wall again, but this time it's him trying to get a better grip on his control, on gravity, but he _doesn’t know where he's allowed to put his hands-_

"My hair," you tell him between open mouthed kisses, scarred fingers working open his belt. Danny threads his gentle hands into your hair grabbing enough in his grip that if he pulls it won't be sharp.

Then you see him solid through his boxers and your stomach somersaults. _Fuck_.

You kiss him through the fabric and he's breathless. Pulling his pants and boxers down over his hips to his thighs, you take hold of him and lick a long hot stripe from his balls to his leaking head and he's _shaking_.

"Easy Angel," you say softer this time, before taking him in as far as you can. Danny barely keeps from bucking into the velvet heat of your mouth and he is so responsive. His thoughts have gone wild, like a pack of spilled skittles, a sensational technicolour mess. He is writhing under your hands and mouth like an erotic renaissance masterpiece, hair in his eyes, his naked torso heaving. Soft full mouth red and open.

It feels like a thunderstorm after a heatwave, like the first time in the suit. It feels like a hundred miles an hour on your old Ducati.

And _fuck_ you want him. You pull off him with an obscene sound, one hand stroking him to keep pace, while you shove the other into your pants to work yourself and _fuck_ you are slick. The curse slips out, grabbing his attention and the hands in your hair tighten as he sees.

Danny watches you and through his eyes it looks like your control is slipping and it is, you want him between your legs instead of your hand and your boundary line that you drew is rapidly becoming blurred.

But it is still there. And it is orange.

You take a deep breath in and open up your throat, offer it up. Offer up yourself. You choke once then overcome it, tears leaking out the corner of eyes and he's trembling. You hold yourself there a little while longer. For him. His hands tighten, his head thrown back 

" _God_ ," he moans and you feel like one.

You pull off him to breathe then you do it again and again. And again.

He tugs your hair in warning, he's close now and so are you. You don’t stop.

 _Come for me_ you beg with your mouth full. And he does and you can't spit so you swallow. His mind whites out and it's almost too much for you too.

He slides down the wall, strength leaving him, and you move your fingers faster, you're almost there when he grabs your hand, stilling your movements and you _whine_.

"Let me take care of you," he urges, breathless.

"I-"

Your head falls to rest in his neck, you're panting. And you think fuck it. You start unbuckling your ripped jeans, fumbling, "Rip my tights."

"What?"

"The patterned tights under my jeans, I want you, but I need-" to hide? To pretend you're human?

You go to stand on shaky legs and he follows, steadying you. The loose jeans fall off you easily with Danny's help. He grabs your tight covered thighs and lifts you with deceptive ease. Then pushes a couple chairs off a nearby table to place you on it. There is no skin showing but you feel on display anyway, every outline of your legs, spread open.

Danny, haphazardly wiped from the corner of your mouth.

You bring a hand up to cover your panting mouth, trying to hide from his gaze but you can still see yourself front and centre in his mind, your chest heaving, face flushed, wanton. He takes the hand from your face and kisses the scarred knuckles and you watch mesmerised. Then he turns your hand over and places filthy opened mouth kisses on the scar on your palm.

"Rip them. My tights. Carefully." You're so close to the line but you can't slip now, if you keep your footing, you can pull this off.

"How am I supposed to rip them _carefully_?"

"My butterfly knife is in my boot"

"You want me to _cut-_ " he balks, but you cut him off.

"I want you to fuck me, Danny" and the floodgates seem to have opened. "I want you to bend me over, bend me in half, i want that mouth on me exactly how you were broadcasting at the bar. I want to dip into your mind and turn you up to 11 again, get you hard and then I want to sit in the passenger seat of your pleasure while you _fuck me_." and all of that did just come out of your mouth and that's- that's just-

"You can do that?" His thoughts are tripping over themselves. You can't get a good read on him.

"Do what?"

"Get me hard with your powers?"

Your face screws up, it sounds terrible out loud like that but, "...yeah"

He seems to come to a stop and then pick up double time.

"Do it," and he wants you, he wants to give you everything you want. Whatever you want.

“Danny,” you start. "I didn't blow you for you to owe me, you don't have to-"

“You're misunderstanding me." He sucks on your fingers then and you are unable to look away from his mouth. Then he drops your hand and pulls you by your legs towards him, so that he can reach down and take your knife from your left boot.

Misunderstanding? It's possible. You seem to have lost your brain cells.

"I want to see you come apart, Mona."

All your breath leaves you.

He wants to feel your hands in his hair. He wants to know your taste. _He wants to see you shake underneath him like he has in his dreams._

You screw your eyes shut before he can see them roll back into your head, before he can see you roll out of your mind. He wants it all, and it's the hardest thing to not just give it all to him then and there.

You exhale the neediest noise you've ever made. You pull him down to kiss him but he ends up devouring you instead. You're losing the lead, the control and-

That's okay, you're okay. It's Danny. You're safe.

He puts the knife beside you as he helps you shed your jacket, stopping at your band tee and undershirt. He doesn't ask for more than that and you're grateful. He runs his hands down over you anyway. Through the fabric of your clothes his palms are scorching. Smooths his thumbs on the insides of your thighs missing where you want them most. Hands hooking under your knees to pull them wider apart. Then he runs a hand back up to your apex.

You jolt hard even though you see it coming, the table squeaks. The intensity of your response surprises him and before he can finish the thought about pulling back you place a hand over his and move them together over you. Showing him what you like and it's what you need but nowhere near enough so you kiss him, unable to beg out loud.

"If you're uncomfortable or you don't want to do anything you tell me and we stop." He says, sincere expression a wild contrast to the act of him opening the folding knife. "You can hang around upstairs if that makes it easier too." You can't reply around your heart in your throat but you nod.

Danny has all but rolled out the welcome mat for you so, using the build up within your own body, you bring him up to speed.

His head bows under the wave of pleasure and his knees shake, the hand not between your thighs catching his weight on the table. He lets out a wrecked moan into your collarbone. Whoops. You didn't plan on _actually_ turning him up to 11 and you bring him back down. He tries to speak a few times before he manages.

"Holy _Fuck._ "

You snort and he watches your mouth as you laugh.

When he cuts open your tights he is careful, like you knew he would be. His gaze goes dark as he sees, _black lace black lace_. Your lingerie is damp and he pushes the lace aside before sliding two fingers inside you and curling-

You fold towards him moaning out loud. He does it again and moves his thumb to your clit. He wants to hear you make more noises, repeatedly. And you do. The sounds coming out of your mouth unrecognisable to your ears. Your hips grinding against his hand, shameless. You're only partly aware of his other hand in your hair and kisses over the side of your face. You ditch your pride and _beg._

"Hurry up and fuck me," and he's so eager, but he is still gentle when he pulls his fingers out of you. Then he looks you straight in the eye and licks them clean and your mind abandons you.

It returns when Danny pulls a condom out of his wallet and your eyebrows hit your hairline. You didn't even know five minutes ago that you were going to need it. Is that just in his wallet all the time? Was he hoping for this? He blushes and you breathe out a laugh, he was.

He pulls your hips to the edge of the table then he kisses you, with so much affection that you almost choke on it.

When your lips part he stays close, your breathes intermingling. He grips your hip with one hand, aligns himself with the other, then slowly enters you.

It feels- like this whole time you've been empty. Maybe you have been.

When he bottoms out you're almost glad because you wouldn't be able to take anymore. It feels- absolutely fucking incredible.

You weren't aware you had gone silent, bracing. Danny waiting for you, so damn selfless. You want him to stop being polite and make a mess of you and you want him to enjoy it. To take his pleasure, to take you.

So you move your hips and then so does he. He pulls all the way out before driving back in and you have to put an arm out behind you to steady yourself. He pushes your hips down onto the table to fuck into you. Then he moves a thumb to your clit.

You choke on a moan and bury your face in his neck, trying to muffle the noises. But he can't get a good angle with his hand like this and you need it. So you lean back on shaky arms. 

His pace ends up pushing you across the table so he hooks your knee over his elbow and yanks you back. Back onto his cock and your arms give out, you're on your elbows now. You look from where your bodies join to his face and you burn up under the way he's looking at you.

When your elbows buckle you're flat on your back and at his mercy. The table is squeaking something fierce. You're whining an endless litany of "fuck fuck _fuck_." The sensations are mounting. You grip the table with one hand and hook the other under your knee to keep you spread open for him.

"Are you close?" He asks, because he is.

You make a noise in the affirmative. Then he loses his rhythm and fucks into you without restraint. And you just lose it.

 _You_ -

Your back arches off the table. Mouth open in a silent shout. Your orgasm claims you in waves. Your hand slams down onto the table for purchase, your legs are shaking. And he's still fucking you, still circling your clit.

You tensing around him is what pulls Danny over the edge with you. And you watch him tremble, a breathtaking wreck, oversensitive from coming again so soon, his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy and he is everything.

He buckles, letting your leg go to collapse on top of you and you let out an " _Oof_." 

The two of you are a spent and sweaty mess. Just as bad as training, worse probably. You lie in each others arms sated and content. Danny's weight is comforting and he rests his head in the hollow of your neck. Absentmindedly, you comb your fingers through his hair to get it off his face. Then you draw patterns on the naked skin of his back and trace some of his more pronounced scars.

You wonder which ones are from you.

He pulls himself up onto an elbow, and looks down to you his hair falling a curtain. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

His mouth tugs up in a wide, lazy grin. "That good huh"

"Ugh" unable to say anything better and you push his face away from you, mouth twisting in an effort not to smile and he laughs.

"So, was that the Blow Job or the Quick Fuck?"

" _Ugh,_ " you repeat but with more emphasis, smiling now.

He pulls off and out of you gently and it's only when you go to close your legs you realise how stiff being spread out like that made you. He hands you your jeans and your legs feel like jelly when you put them on. You both wash up at the sink in the bar.

You gaze over the shelves, some bottles are easily recognised, some sit in shadows and are unknown to you. He comes to stand beside you to look at all the choices on their shelves, laid out before you. Before both of you.

You turn to look at him all soft blues in the moonlight coming through the window and he is smiling at you.

You smile back and ask, "So what next?"

**Author's Note:**

> I will actually love you so much if you give me feedback, like this is just self indulgent and i'm too biased to tell if its ok like maybe its not ok! Maybe its not cool at all! Who knows? Not me!


End file.
